


Stay Still, My Love, And I Will Fix You

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV [2]
Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, F/M, Failed Mission, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Pain, Rescue, Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV, Trapped, field medicine, make shift medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: Nat gets injured on a mission and Tony has to perform emergency medical procedures to keep her alive until the real medics arrive.TSBIV: T3 - Stay Still
Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045506
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	Stay Still, My Love, And I Will Fix You

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Stay Still, My Love, And I Will Fix You  
> Collaborator: startrekkingaroundasgard  
> Card: 4048  
> Square: T3 - Stay Still  
> Rating: Mature  
> Warnings: angst, injury, pain, hurt/comfort, blood  
> Summary: Nat gets injured on a mission and Tony has to perform emergency medical procedures to keep her alive until the real medics arrive.

“Run the scan again.”

Tony shot at the wall of fallen bricks in a pointless attempt to loosen some of the rocks. The power reserves continued to drop, that final EMP shot at his suit apparently more serious than he’d initially believed, but Tony refused to give up. The constant stream of energy made little difference, though, as his AI was quick to point out. “The rubble’s too thick, boss.”

Sparks flew from his gauntlet as he discharged it at the weakest point of the stone barricade. A sharp jolt shot up the length of his arm, mechanisms failing left, right and centre. His fingers clenched automatically into a tight fist and Tony hissed until the acute tingling passed. The HUD flickered as the system reboot itself and allowed him to uncurl his hand.

“Tell me you’ve found her, Fri.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute.”

He was this close to clearing a path by hand. Hell, he’d even punch his way through the rock to find her, bare knuckled until his hands bled, if necessary. Thankfully, before Tony broke his hand on a valiant, misguided rescue attempt, FRIDAY highlighted a trio of boulders to the far left. “I’ve got a faint heat signature over there, boss.”

The suit’s power was almost out but a carefully targeted blast was enough to dislodge the largest block of rubble. From there, Tony was able to pull it free and move the others. His heart was racing as he tossed the final block aside, terrified for what he might find crushed beneath the stones. He should have been faster, should have picked the explosives up on his initial scans. If he’d done his job properly, Natasha wouldn’t be buried under ten tonne of building, fighting for her life.

Steeling himself for a bloody sight, Tony slammed his fist against a twisted steel beam in anger. “Where is she, FRIDAY?”

The entire HUD flickered, every reading going haywire as the AI drew on the suit’s deepest power reserves. Tony’s heart pounded against his ribcage, waiting with trembling breath for FRIDAY’s report. It was useless trying to make sense of the failing reports on the display. All he could do was fight the hundreds of worst case scenarios passing through his mind and keep his cool. He could do it. He had to for her.

“Got her. Her comms are majorly damaged – way too bad for messages – but I’ll hone in on the signal.”

“Do it.”

“You’ll have to go in bare, boss. No way will the suit pass through that mess.”

“Whatever. I’ll do what I have to find her. Get me out.”

Never had the opening been so sluggish. For a horrible moment, Tony thought that he himself would end up trapped, unable to help Natasha. However – after years of dealing him truly horrendous hands – the universe decided, for once, to give him a break. The mechanisms scraped over each other, metal against metal in an ear piercing screech, before the suit opened and Tony stumbled out.

He tapped the device around his wrist, grateful that his watch-come-portable-hardrive hadn’t also been fried in the attack. FRIDAY was still there; he wasn’t alone in this. But she was. He wouldn’t let her down. Not again.

Readings, projected in a bright blue light, plotted Natasha’s position against his and Tony almost screamed in frustration. She was trapped almost twenty feet into the rubble. With little choice, Tony dropped to his knees and crawled through the small opening he’d created. The torch around his wrist provided enough light to avoid hitting his head on the shattered metal bulkheads that had once held up the roof.

“I guess I needed a new suit anyway,” Tony grumbled as the sleeve of his jacket ripped on an extended metal pipe. He pulled his stomach in to squeeze through the tightest gap yet, slowly but surely edging through the rubbled building towards his teammate. “I’m coming, Tasha. Hold on.”

Dangerously, Tony found himself beginning to hope. The debris was less compacted the deeper into the building he went. He could almost stand up straight now, no longer needing to hunch and bend his torso into unnatural positions to fit through FRIDAY’s plotted course. Maybe he’d take Steve up on those Pilates classes after all. A little more flexibility would certainly come in handy right about now.

Tony stepped out into a small cavern, large metal beams caught overhead and somehow supporting the rest of the shattered building. A few beams of light crept through but it was barely enough to illuminate the space. From the darkest corner, a gun clicked and he threw his hands in the air. “I’m unarmed.”

Slowly, Tony turned the torch into the shadows. He identified her immediately. He knew that fearless expression anywhere. Natasha’s hands were trembling but her aim was straight and true – just as he’d expect. She regarded him with wide eyes, stared straight through him. She practically hissed when Tony stepped forward but he didn’t falter.

He pulled the strap off his wrist and slid it across the dusty floor. If she saw his face, she’d relax. That was his hope, anyway. Natasha winced at the sudden brightness but recognition soon sparked in her tight expression. “Stark?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. Are you alright?”

She lowered the gun and set it by her side, answering with a sharp, “No.”

Even with the extra light, Tony still couldn’t see the true extent of her injuries until he was right by her side. As he’d feared, it wasn’t good. Natasha’s leg was bent at a severely unnatural angle and her ankle was crushed beneath a large chunk of concrete. Even more concerning was the metal pipe impaled into her left side. “Shit, Romanoff. I need to get you back to the Quinjet.”

“No,” she said again. “You can’t move me. Not like this. You have to patch me up. I’ll talk you through it.”

“I can’t -”

Natasha grabbed his wrist, her grip weaker than it had ever been. That scared Tony almost more than the warm pool of blood beneath his knees. Her palm was slick, slippery against his skin, and Tony tried to pretend that it was just sweat. A hardness in her eyes, she said, “You’re an engineer. Just pretend you’re fixing a suit.”

“People aren’t – you’re not a machine, Tash. I can’t just… fix you.”

Her heartbeat raced beneath Tony’s fingertips, just another alarming sign of the little time she had left. Tony saw the effort on her face, the beads of sweat that dripped from her hairline, as she steadied her breathing, pushed down her own feelings of panic. “You don’t need to fix me. Cho can do that when we’re back at the Compound. It’s field medicine, Stark. Any idiot can do it.”

Ignoring the twitch of her lips – of course she knew the best way to get him to do anything was to poke his ego – Tony nodded. “Fine. Walk me through it.”

Natasha’s eyes rolled back into her skull. For a horrible moment, the dreadful silence between heartbeats, Tony thought he’d lost her. Always the stronger of them, she suddenly jolted herself awake. He winced at the sharp bite of her nails into his wrists but covered the shock with a stiff smile that only caused Natasha to frown.

“Feel guilty when I’m lying in a hospital bed,” she snapped. Merely blinking as Tony gently wiped the blood from the corner of her lips, Natasha pressed her fingers down on her abdomen, careful to avoid going too near to the thin metal pipe. They both pointedly ignored her pained groan. Stifling a cough, Natasha said, “It missed the organs.”

Tony glanced at FRIDAY’s readings, unconvinced by the results of the scan. “Tasha…”

“It missed the organs,” she repeated. He nodded, understanding that what she needed right now was a healthy dose of optimism. It was hardly his default setting, most certainly not hers either, but the truth would only make this harder on them both. “Pull out the pipe. Cauterise the wound.”

“The suit’s out of power.”

A quiet “fuck” passed her lips before she steeled her concern. Natasha was always so brave. Some people might have put it down to what she’d been through, the trauma of surviving the Red Room and every other ridiculous threat they’d squashed over the years. They might have said that it had hardened her, forced her to be stronger than the rest of them. And yes, it was true; she had been broken and remade so many times that it was a wonder that she even knew who she was.

But Tony believed she had always possessed the inner strength that was currently keeping her together, protecting her from the deadly reality of this situation. The knowledge that they were on the right side of the war and that the universe was not such a cold and terrible thing, that it would save her, keep her in the good fight. He could only dream of being that brave, of being so sure of his motivations. Perhaps it was necessity – that Natasha needed to believe it or risk the backlash of realising it wasn’t true – but either way, in that moment, faced with what he was about to do, Tony could do with a shot of that same fearlessness. 

“Tell me what to do, Tasha.”

“Stapler. By the desk.”

She didn’t need to fall back on her years of training to recognise that Tony was less than ecstatic about this. He was hardly keeping it a secret. Still, Tony retrieved the stapler as instructed. He scuttled back over to her side.

Natasha was so pale, ghostly in the flickering blue light of his watch. Her eyes were bloodshot, her suit drenched with blood. He’d insist when he got her safely back to The Compound – if, his mind unhelpfully supplied – that she finally allow him to build her a real suit. Hell, he’d get her stubborn arse into one of the ten he had already made by force if he had too, just so that he may never have to see her dancing so closely with death again.

“Stark.” Her voice was low, trembling, but the warning was clear: stop staring and get on with it. There was no more time to waste.

Tony wrapped a hand around the metal pipe and steadied himself. With his free hand, he cupped her cheek. He didn’t mention the tears that trickled through his fingers. “Look at me, Red. I’ve got you. Stay still, alright?”

Once again proving herself the braver of them both, Natasha hissed desperately as she covered his hand and counted him down from five. Tony didn’t allow her to make it passed four. Her screams tore through the silence as the metal pipe clattered against the ground. The twisted sounds of agony only grew worse as he pinched the skin around the wound and stapled the flesh together. It was a temporary fix, a terrible one at that, but it did the trick.

He wiped her blood on his shirt and cupped her face, held her attention and smoothed her hair, the gentle strands now crusty with iron and dust. She wept, desperate and pained, at the gentle brush of his lips over hers. “Tony…”

Her eyes flickered shut and he begged, “Stay with me, Nat.”

“I’m -” She choked on a bloody cough. Her heart continued to race under Tony’s fingers, her breathing was shallow and ragged but, for now, it was enough. Natasha squeezed Tony’s hand and muttered, “Here. Still here.”

Not willing to waste another moment, Tony slipped his watch onto her wrist (safe keeping, he claimed, but truthfully to get a better reading on her vitals for Cho and the approaching medical team). He then pried her free from beneath the concrete and scooped her up into his arms. She groaned, curling around him like a cat. It was almost sweet until he realised that she didn’t quite trust him not to drop her. Tony didn’t protest, though, already stumbling back through the rubble.

“Come on, Nat. We’re almost out. Hang in there.”

She mumbled something into his chest, something that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s not your fault.”

They both winced as they stepped out into the light of day. Tony walked straight past his suit and headed for the Quinjet. He set Natasha down on the ground, head supported by a rolled up jacket. She was too weak to speak now but her silent gratitude was perfectly clear as he injected her with every antibiotic and painkiller that he could find.

Drifting into unconsciousness, Natasha still found the strength to whisper a quite thanks. Tony chuckled to himself, short and broken, as her eyes fell shut again, almost amused that she thought it possible he would ever leave her behind. He sat beside her until the medical team arrived and didn’t leave it until she woke three days later.


End file.
